Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 126 The Prototype of the Global Chronicle
Before migrating from San Francisco, the Chinese Youth Association had assured them of their absolute safety.

Many of them were skeptical.

Talking about safety with these white devils on this land of white devils?

"It's very likely a scam."

This was the first thought that flashed through the minds of most of them.

But when they actually arrived, they realized that this was actually real!

It's a hundred times safer than that doghouse in San Francisco's Chinatown, which was crammed with dozens of people and infested with fleas!
No drunken white cowboys would barge into the settlement, indiscriminately firing guns and causing trouble, nor would any thugs dare to come and collect protection money.

There is no sheriff who would arbitrarily find an excuse to arrest them and extort the last bit of their hard-earned money.

Even when they mustered their courage and went to town together to buy daily necessities, the white shopkeepers, though still not looking too friendly, could sense their unconscious apprehension!
No one dared to extend that hand that was courting death!

Because on this vast land, the White Tiger Security Company's mounted patrols are more damn effective than the laws of the United States.

Patrol officers riding tall horses and wearing black uniforms would suddenly appear in some corner at random times.

God knows if they'll suddenly show up when those white people are up to no good and give them a good whack.

Lawson was well aware of this.

What is safety? Safety is built with muscles and fists, and with bullets fired one by one!
The order here was carved out inch by inch with the butcher's knife of Finnian's pack of wolves.

Before he arrived, this place was naturally rife with bandits, harassed by remnants of Native Americans, and cowboys would draw their guns and shoot each other at the slightest disagreement.

After he arrived, he was the only one left here.

Occasionally, wanted criminals from other places, or small, unsuspecting gangs, would mistake this newly developed land for a piece of easy money and smuggle themselves here.

They didn't even need Lawson to give the orders personally.

The wolves, hyenas, and slugs will pounce on you from the shadows.

These outsiders wouldn't even have time to react before they were torn to shreds in an instant.

Their bones will become fertilizer in the deepest part of this land.

Northern California will not allow a second armed force.

No other voices will be allowed!

Apart from Lawson's own.

The hooves of Lawson's horse pounded the ground like a lion surveying its territory.

Every living thing on this vast land, whether human or livestock, is a pulsating number on his map.

The Chinese laborers working in the fields did not recognize him.

All they knew was that the owner of this land was a great figure they could never imagine.

He is the true, supreme controller behind the Huaqing Association and Baihu Security.

Lawson doesn't need them to know him.

The Huaqing Association system established by the suicide bombers will be responsible for all planning, development, management and distribution.

He doesn't need to do everything himself; he only cares about results.

But there's something that needs to be put on the agenda.

It's time for the San Francisco Chronicle, the mouthpiece it acquired during the San Francisco riots he orchestrated, to speak out.

Prior to this, the San Francisco Chronicle was just a small local newspaper with a negligible amount of influence in California.

But now, with the help of Lawson's global network of assassins—the world's fastest and most secretive news outlet—its nature is completely different.

His henchmen have now spread like dandelion seeds to every state and major city in America, and even to Europe and Asia.

Their identities are diverse, permeating every level and system of the residents.

What these people saw and heard was the newspaper's most exclusive first-hand news source.

The Texas wolf pack's territory is constantly expanding.

They have just made a deal with a warlord on the Mexican border.

The bullets that should have been used in the clearing operation are being sold to those damned Native Americans at ten times the price.

Those Texas Rangers were busy sharing whiskey and Mexican girls with their gangsters.

A spy from faraway Europe disguised himself as a waiter and infiltrated the Rothschild family's dinner party.

He overheard the Belgian king's envoy complaining to bankers that Congo's rubber quota was too low and that stricter incentives were necessary—those beasts called incentives.

Even on Wall Street, one of his men was an unassuming janitor who had just found a torn-up draft telegram in J.P. Morgan's wastebasket.

The faint writing above points to the next harvest that is about to begin.

In terms of news sources and delivery speed, this newspaper will crush all its competitors of this era.

Lawson aims to build the most authoritative newspaper in the United States, and even the world.

An empire of public opinion that can guide public opinion, create panic, elevate politicians, and also destroy a country overnight!

Since it's a world-class organization, the name "San Francisco Chronicle" seems too small-minded.

The American Chronicle?
The vision is still not broad enough.

Lawson raised an eyebrow and said, "Let's call it the 'Global Chronicle'!"

He was only responsible for setting the grand direction.

As for the specific tasks such as site selection, recruitment, news screening, and establishing a faster telegram relay network, these miscellaneous matters were naturally handled by the most professional assassins.

He just needs to sit back and wait for the results.

But the money just flows out like water!
Lawson's thoughts finally returned to reality, and even he couldn't help but sigh.

The vault door was almost wide open.

The eagles surged uncontrollably in all directions.

The development and resettlement of over 20,000 people in Northern California alone consumes enormous amounts of resources every day.

Although the city hall provided funding for the reconstruction of Chinatown, Lawson wanted to build a landmark, and the funding wasn't enough; he had to cover the bulk of the costs himself.

The expansion of The Globe and Chronicle required an even larger investment.

The money looted from the safes of wealthy businessmen and senators who voluntarily surrendered everything during the previous riots is burning at an alarming rate.

Fortunately, he wasn't just spending without earning.

Baihu Security Company's cash flow has become quite substantial.

The annual protection fees paid by the Southern Pacific Railway Company now seem like just an appetizer.

Northern Pacific Coast Railroad Company.

That North Bay shipping route, and the crucial Sausalito terminal, will soon belong to the Lo family.

In Texas, 30,000 US dollars have already been transferred over this month through underground channels.

All he had to do was patiently wait for them to run at full speed.

Lawson turned his horse around and, surrounded by his two dogs, galloped toward Marlene's farm.

At the same time, Sofia's carriage also arrived.

“FCUK…”

Aaron Bryant's curses came again, but this time, he was clearly startled.

"Aaron? What's wrong? Yes, it's..."

Before Sofia could finish speaking, she and Avril leaned out of the car window.

The moment they saw the scene before them, they were both speechless.

The dilapidated wooden hut they had imagined, covered in chicken droppings, never appeared. Instead, they saw an entire estate!
A neatly trimmed lawn and a wide driveway paved with white gravel, wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side.

At the end of the driveway stood a two-story Victorian-style house!

The house features exquisite bay windows, intricate roof lines, and a wraparound porch.

The paint was brand new, gleaming in the bright California sun, and even more impressive than Sofia's own home in San Francisco.

"That son of a bitch..."

Aaron reined in his horse, staring intently at the house: "Sophia, are you fucking sure this is your sister Marlene O'Dell's farm, the one that's so poor she's practically selling her ass? We're not on the wrong track, are we?"

"This...this is really your sister's house?"

Avril Fanning murmured to herself.

Her worries about chicken droppings were immediately dispelled by this small house, which was even more impressive than her house in San Francisco's wealthy neighborhood.

"Are we really not on the wrong track?"

Aaron Bryant jumped down from the carriage.

"Sophia, is this the poor sister you were talking about? Damn it, she lives in a better place than I do. That bitch, did she hook up with some rich guy?"

Sofia's mind was also in a daze.

She wondered if they had gone to the wrong place, but then she saw two strong and expensive thoroughbreds on the other side of the yard.

And there were two Chinese people there?
Sofia's breath hitched again.

They wore clean short-sleeved shirts, their muscles bulging in the sunlight, and they looked completely at ease.

Upon seeing their arrival, the two merely glanced at them indifferently before continuing with their tasks.

There was an absolute confidence in his eyes!
This was completely different from her usual impression of Chinese people as being skinny and listless!
Sofia's mind was becoming increasingly confused, and she was more and more certain that they had gone to the wrong place!
This might be the estate of a newly rich man in Northern California.

"FUCK, FUCK!"

Aaron Bryant kicked the carriage wheel: "You two stupid women, didn't you even give your mother's address in the letter? So unreliable, a waste of my time!"

"Where did your sister's family move to?"

Sofia was completely bewildered.

Now she is only worried that something has happened to her sister, that she has sold even the last bit of her pitiful farm and been forced to live in some worse place.

She lifted her skirt and shakily jumped off the carriage.

"I'll go ask those two gentlemen."

She mustered her courage and decided to ask the two Chinese men who looked intimidating for directions.

She had only taken two steps when a clear, crisp female voice came from the direction of the orchard not far away.

"Aunt Sofia!"

Lucy, dressed in a light blue dress with lace trim, ran out from under the shade of an apple tree.

"You're finally here! Mom and I have been waiting for you for so long!"

Sofia stood frozen in place, staring incredulously at the beautiful girl with rosy cheeks.

Is this still the same malnourished, timid Lucy?
"Lucy? Is it really you?"

Just then, the white-painted doorway of the unbelievably beautiful Victorian house was pushed open, releasing a whiff of freshly baked bread.

"Lucy, where did you go? Oh my God!"

A plump woman came out carrying an empty tray.

Her hair was tied into a full bun at the back of her head, with a few unruly strands hanging down beside her ears, slightly damp with sweat.

It was Marlene O'Dell.

Sofia's pupils contracted once again!
Is this the older sister she remembers always wearing faded coarse cloth dresses, struggling to breathe under the weight of farm work and poverty?
The woman she was seeing was thirty-one years old, the most mature, sweet, and peach-like age for a woman.

Her cheeks were rosy and her skin was firm, showing signs of being well-nourished and in a healthy, radiant state.

Those eyes...

Sofia remembered that her sister's eyes used to be filled with vigilance and numbness, as if they were covered with a layer of dust.

But now, those blue eyes shone with a radiance that Sophia had only ever seen on the faces of newlywed noblewomen, pampered by their husbands.

It was a feeling of security, of being protected, and even a hint of shy shimmer.

"Sophia, my dear sister!"

After a brief moment of surprise, Marlene was overjoyed.

She lifted her skirt and rushed down the steps, grabbing Sofia tightly in a hug.

"Oh God, you've finally come! You little rascal, why didn't you write to tell me beforehand!"

"Sister, is it really you?"

Sofia was enveloped in that familiar yet unfamiliar warm aura, her mind still in a daze.

Her close friend, Avril Fanning, was a completely different story.

Avril's gaze had already passed over the two embracing sisters and was fixed on Lucy, who was skipping and hopping back.

More accurately, it was pinned to the dress Lucy was wearing.

"God, it's...it's Montgomery's latest collection..."

Avril murmured unconsciously.

She recognized the dress.

Last month, she had been eyeing it for a long time in the window of Montgomery department store in San Francisco.

The French designer is asking for twelve silver dollars!

Twelve silver dollars, to buy a dress for a little girl in the countryside?

Avril looked down at her custom-made black dress from Paris, which made her appear somewhat lifeless.

"Cough, cough!"

A cough, delivered with feigned authority, interrupted the brief reunion.

Aaron Bryant had composed himself.

He puffed out his large belly again, subtly scanning Marlene's voluptuous curves.

Damn it, how come I never noticed before that my sister-in-law from the countryside is so fucking amazing!
That waist, that buttocks, and those breasts that were being squeezed so tightly by the apron straps that they looked like they were about to burst through the shirt!

This woman is even more feminine than his wife.

“Marlene, sister.”

Sophia finally came to her senses. She took Marlene's hand and pointed to the house: "What's going on here? We almost thought we were in the wrong house just now."

"Oh, this."

Marlene's cheeks flushed, and she turned her head away somewhat shyly, avoiding Aaron's undisguised gaze.

She still chose to lie.

A lie that Lawson had prepared for her long ago.

"It's a long story. Well, a new manager came to the bank in town. He thought my farm had great potential, so he took the initiative to approve a low-interest loan for me so I could build this new house."

She feared that these relatives from the city would use their narrow-mindedness to speculate about her relationship with Mr. Lawson.

Mr. Lawson is an angel, a god, and the salvation for her and Lucy.

She would not allow anyone to tarnish him with even the slightest bit of foul language!
(End of this chapter)